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I went back to Utah with my boyfriend Captain Crunch, who is obsessed with mountain biking.
When I say obsessed, I mean OBSESSED. He didn’t bring his bike when we were up there last month, but he had a raging hard-on for all the trails and mountains up there, and he couldn’t wait to get back.
To lure me back out there, he offered to rent bikes and take me on an easy beginner trail around Navajo Lake. Now, I have very little interest in mountain biking myself—I like bike riding, but mostly around town from bar to bar and stuff like that. I’m no adrenaline junkie, so the thought of careening madly down a mountainside on two wheels leaves me pretty cold. But I do enjoy a good workout, and I enjoy his company, so I agreed to try it.
Besides, as a conciliatory gesture, he agreed to camp out in the woods this time, in my little pop-up camper. He’s not really into camping, so I took it upon myself to show him how much fun camping can be! This time, I was sure to bring PLENTY of booze so we wouldn’t run into trouble with those jacked-up liquor laws in the lame state of Utah—I packed three bottles of wine for a three-night trip. Alas, however, the whole trip was a giant clusterfuck!!!
It started out OK—we found this beautiful campsite in the woods near Duck Creek among the aspens and pine trees. I set up my camper, made a fire, and settled in for some goooooood times. But then it went off the rails. First off, Captain Crunch drank a third of my liquor supply the very first night! This was a real problem, because the road from town was undergoing some emergency repairs and was only open AFTER 7PM. Well, the state-controlled liquor stores up there CLOSE at 7PM! CRISIS!!!!!!!!
Next, some crusty old asshat came over from the neighboring campsite: "Hey, just so you guys know, there’s a campfire ban in effect. If the campground host sees you, he’ll throw you out! Just so you know!" Whenever someone says, "Just so you know," you KNOW they’re an asshole. Right???!
Well, I’m a pussy and was inclined to put out the fire right away, even though I just put a baked potato in there for my dinner. But Captain C told me not to worry—we were pretty far back in the woods, far from the campground host, and it was already 10PM. He seemed to think there’d be no harm in keeping our fire going for another hour, just long enough to finish cooking dinner. Besides, the entire fuckin’ forest was damp from some rainfall earlier, so the fire danger was way low anyway.
But sure as sugar, that crusty old asshat must have gone over and ratted us out, because about 30 minutes later here comes the campground host, another crusty old asshat. Captain C laid it on very thick: "Oh, we’re sorry sir, we’ll put it out right away." FUCK! What fun is camping if you can’t have a fuckin’ campfire? Now I had to dig my potato out of the wet ashes, and we retreated into my camper to cook the rest of our dinner on the stove in there. Half-baked potato cut into slices and fried in butter…lame!!! I ended up drinking the second third of my booze supply and passing out watching a movie on Captain C’s iPad.
The next morning, Captain C slept ’til noon while I got up (fuckin’ insomnia) and did yoga in the woods and stuff, waiting for him to wake up so we could go mountain biking. We rented the bikes and headed out to the trail, a BEAUTIFUL loop around Navajo Lake that was supposed to be a really easy beginner’s jaunt. Easy, my ass!!!!! That was one of the hardest workouts I’ve ever done!! I almost died about five times, fell off my bike about 20 times, and broke down bawling once (in my defense, I was on my period…plus I fell off my seat, hit my puss bone on the cross bar, and cut the fuck out of my knee on the fucking pedal). But I made it around the lake, and in pretty good time! Captain C kept encouraging me and telling me how GREAT I was doing, but I’m the kind of person who thinks people are full of shit when they say stuff like that, so I had a hard time believing him.
Still, it was a great workout and a beautiful ride, and we got back to my truck just in time—a thunderstorm broke out just as we got in. And then it pretty much poured rain the rest of the afternoon, evening and night. LAME! We went back to camp to wait out the storm in my trailer, and Captain C fell asleep again for around four hours while I sat in the gloom and read this book I had brought about a Japanese serial rapist. My lantern batteries were dead, so once it got dark I had to read my light of my headlamp, and everything was damp and soggy and shitty and miserable. To make matters worse, every time I had to pee I had to venture out into the pouring rain…but there was NO WAY I was gonna stop drinking! Captain C finally woke up around 9PM and we killed the rest of my booze and played Connect Four and stuff in the dark before finally giving up and going to bed. L.A.M.E.!!!
It rained all night, but thankfully it let up for a little bit in the morning, so I was able to pack up and get the fuck out of there in time before it started in again. We drove back to Vegas in pretty much pouring rain the entire time. Worst camping trip EVER!!!!
I don’t know how to spell “border.” I spell it “boarder.” Dumb, right?
I have bad teeth, too.
“This time, I was sure to bring PLENTY of booze”
“I packed three bottles of wine for a three-night trip”
anybody else see something wrong with this? or is it just me? do i drink way too much? one bottle of wine per night between two people seems like not even close to PLENTY of booze, right?
Puss bones hurt when they’re jamming into your boner bone.
[...] wrong. BDSM is actually fun and it’s not “anti-woman.” Wonderhussy, whose blog I loved here, writes why she thinks BDSM (modeling) is “dehumanizing”: As I’ve mentioned [...]
[...] wrong. BDSM is actually fun and it’s not “anti-woman.” Wonderhussy, whose blog I loved here, writes why she thinks BDSM (modeling) is “dehumanizing”: As I’ve mentioned [...]